Singing Three Little Birds

Pages

Friday, March 2, 2018

1. Deleted 500 old blog posts.
2. Facebooked. Looked at the same three posts I've already scrolled through ten times.
3. Got angry over a meme. Fact-checked meme. Reported meme as fake.
4. Journaled. Looked at the blank page of my journal. Wrote about the weather. Again.
5. Folded laundry.
6. Ate a healthy breakfast. Got hungry an hour later and thought about lunch for the next two hours.
7. Ate lunch.
8. Went to the grocery store because when I was there yesterday I forgot 5 things.
9. Watched an episode of Outlander.
10. Wrote a blog post. Wondered if blogging was still a thing.
11. Tweeted "Is blogging still a thing?"

Thursday, February 23, 2017

My son started basketball this winter. He loves sports. He always has since he was a little boy. I remember him sleeping with hockey sticks and baseballs like they were stuffed animals. He started tee ball when he was three and loved it. He's been doing Tae Kwon Do for three years as well.

The truth is, comparatively speaking, he's not the most athletic boy. He's only 7, but some boys his age are throwing and catching and shooting baskets like they've been doing it since they could walk. These boys have that natural athletic ability that my son just doesn't have.

Not that he couldn't be a good athlete. I firmly believe that if he practices and works hard at it he could catch up to those boys that have that natural athletic ability. He's proven that he can be a good athlete with hard work. He has a brown belt in Tae Kwon Do and I fully expect him to be a black belt and 2 or 3 years.
(Incidently, that's all I care about when it comes to my children and sports. I just want them to try their best and work hard. Otherwise, what's the point.)

As the basketball season began this past November, it was clear that he was going to need some practice. He received a net for Christmas and we've had some decent weather these last few weeks that got him out shooting baskets. He was working hard enough at it but there was something missing from his game.

Aggression. He just wasn't aggressive enough on the court. He would stand to the side of the net and let the other team have it and watching the other kids make baskets. We began telling my son that he needed to be more aggressive when playing basketball.

A trait that at age 7 is required to be successful at sports, right? Really? Should we really be pushing our sons to be aggressive? What does aggressive mean anyway? The definition is "ready or likely to attack or confront." Really? I'm telling my kid to attack the other kids on the court?

He's a really sweet kid. Tae Kwon Do has taught him discipline and self restraint. Now we were telling him to forcefully go after the ball. I've told him all his short life to be kind to others and now I was telling him to be pushy and assertive.

As I watched my son stand to the side of the basket and as I yelled for him to get into the game and "be aggressive" I began to wonder if it was okay for him to not be aggressive. Maybe there was another way for him to be successful at sports. Or even (gasp) not to be successful at every sport. Or even be an athlete at all! He can be anything. Just like I tell my softball-obsessed daughter that she could be anything including an athlete.

He'll be fine. Basketball player or not. But I'm done sending him the message that his value is based on whether or not he is a good athlete or that he has to be aggressive to be a boy. Or, like any good parent (or young athlete), I'll try my best.

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Another old post. My daughter was almost 3 at the time I wrote this. She is now 8 and doesn't play with baby dolls anymore. After I wrote this post I hid the spare baby dolls in the basement. She found them one day and I was at a loss to explain why they were there.
Annabelle's favorite baby doll is from the Dollar Store.

She has a baby doll that says, "Mama" and makes sucking noises when a pacifier is placed in her mouth.

She has another one that is worn and well-loved but it is still only second best.

A baby doll from the Dollar Store. One dollar! That's all it took for her to find true love.

She loved that baby doll so much it's head fell off. Twice. I caught her eating the stuffing out of one and hid it for awhile. Then Santa brought her a new one. Last week the head was coming off of this one as well.

What's a Mom to do?

Annabelle really wanted to take the Dollar Store baby to daycare with her. The baby doll's head was barely on and I had visions of it popping off at naptime and Annabelle having a complete meltdown.

"No, let's leave her at home," I said and directed her to Second Best Baby Doll to take with her.

There we are in the car on the way to daycare with Annabelle holding Dollar Store Baby Doll in one arm and Second Best Baby Doll in the other.

"Annabelle. Mommy will take your baby to the doctor's today, Okay?"

"Okay, Mommy. But she doesn't need a shot!"

"Right. No shot."

This Mommy had a plan. A plan to replace Dollar Store Baby Doll with as little tears as possible.

I dropped the kiddos off at daycare, Annabelle with Second Best Baby Doll waiting for naptime. I headed to work and snuck out to the Dollar Store. I carefully examined all the Baby Dolls to find one that had purple eyebrows and blue eyes and a limited chance of their heads popping off in the near future.

Don't let the picture fool you. These baby dolls aren't cute.

I left with four. Four replacements. Because chances are this baby doll wouldn't last either.

I made the switch in the car and threw the Nearly Headless baby doll in the trash outside work.

I picked Annabelle up from daycare and handing her the new Dollar Store Baby Doll. As I passed her back to Annabelle I noticed something I hadn't before.

I hadn't noticed the dent in the baby's head.

I sat in the front seat wondering how this would go. Wondering if my very observant daughter would notice a head dent and wondering if a little lie ever hurt anyone.

"Mommy. Look! What happened?"

"Oh. She got a little bump on her head at the doctor's. During the operation. She's fine. She was such a good girl at the doctor's. And look I got her a new dress!"